


Give Up The Ghost

by thesaroscycle



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Graphic Description, I Don't Even Know, Kinda, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Sort Of, Supernatural Elements, i have no plans for this but am i gonna write it anyway?, like he's assumed dead but as we all know, neil cannot die, this is real emo ngl, wtf the fuck @ me, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-05 03:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16359449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaroscycle/pseuds/thesaroscycle
Summary: Andrew was sure he was dreaming. Not only because he knew he’d fallen asleep only a couple seconds ago, but because Neil Josten was sitting in front of him, looking as he had when he’d joined the foxes a year ago.After a few phone calls, they found out what had really happened: they had found a Nathaniel Wesninski at a crime scene a few hours away. They just hadn’t been able to recognize who he was, and it’d taken a few days to do DNA tests.Basically, Neil is supposed to be dead, Andrew is supposed to be dreaming, and neither of them have any idea what is going on.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> listen this was a complete accident and im supposed to be doing homework hhhhhhhh  
> i have no plans for this right now but hopefully that will change. I also haven't edited or anything, so if you see a mistake let me know.  
> This is also my first fic for this fandom! im sorry lol  
> warnings: there is a lot of talk about burning bodies, and dying in general. that's pretty much it for this chapter tho  
> bls be kind,,,, and Enjoy

Andrew was sure he was dreaming. Not only because he knew he’d fallen asleep only a couple seconds ago, but because Neil Josten was sitting in front of him, looking as he had when he’d joined the foxes a year ago. Andrew didn’t say anything; he’d had these kinds of dreams before. They started occurring right after a certain junkie hadn’t come back, after some pipedream had come and wrecked all of Andrews’ shit and then walked right back out again.

Neil Josten, birth name Nathaniel Wesninski, disappeared on March 9th, leaving nothing but his broken phone and a ring of keys. The police, when called, claimed they didn’t have a Neil Josten in their records; Kevin explained after a little prompting what that meant. After a little _more_ prompting, and a few phone calls, they found out what had really happened: they _had_ found a Nathaniel Wesninski at a crime scene a few hours away. They just hadn’t been able to recognize who he was, and it’d taken a few days to do DNA tests. By the time the Foxes had followed Neil’s little trail, the body was long gone in a mix of other people’s ashes.

Andrew had known that Neil had been lying, had known something was wrong that he wouldn’t tell him. He also had known he wouldn’t be able to keep someone like Neil. It was ingrained in his bones, this knowing: the certainty of change, the truth of life, the inescapability of death. Andrew knew the sun rose every morning, and that anything he ever had would somehow leave him, and someday soon he would cease to exist. He was disappointed to find, after Neil’s death, that he hadn’t truly believed that for a while. Some part of him had hoped, even a little, that lying Neil Josten would have kept his promise and stayed.

Neil hadn’t even been his real name, in the end.

Now that Andrew really looked at him, dream-Neil didn’t look the same; his hair was red like it’d been after Evermore, and his eyes were his real blue, and his face was destroyed by a series of carefully placed cuts and burns. It figured his mind would create something like this; even after death, the junkie wouldn’t get out of his head. He almost asked what happened before he remembered he was not talking to him—no need to feed more fuel to whatever this dream was.

They went on a few more minutes before Neil hung his head and sighed. “Every time I think I’m gonna be able to get you to talk first, but I always run out of patience.” He looked up at Andrew, looking exhausted, and smiled. “How are you Andrew?”

Before he could stop himself, Andrew said, “You’re dead.”

Neil huffed, looking a lot older than he actually was. “Sticking to the script tonight too, huh?” He ran his hands through his hair, which Andrew could now see were just as fucked up as his face. “Alright, here we go. I haven’t actually died just yet; I’m just stuck, for the moment. I don't think I'm in any danger at the moment, other than this situation.” He waved dejectedly in the air, head still dipped low.

“What situation?” Andrew gritted out. This dream was way too realistic for his liking.

“The whole dream thing. I’d be fine with it if you remembered anything in the morning, but. . .” He trailed of, looking up at Andrew and meeting him in the eyes. Andrew nearly flinched—his eyes looked _real,_ like he was really sitting in front of Andrew and he could reach out and touch him. “This is the fourth time this week we’ve talked like this. It’s the twentieth time we’ve talked this month, and I don’t know how many times it’s been since I died; I stopped counting the days.”

Andrew felt like he couldn’t breathe for a moment, the air taken from his lungs. This dream felt way too real and way too personal, and he’d like to wake the fuck now, thank you very much.

“I know it’s kind of—well, it’s fucking ridiculous, isn’t it? But every morning you wake up and don’t remember what happened. The dreams with me in them, at least; I don’t know about the others.”

Andrew had dreamt plenty of times about Neil in the past months. He'd had quite enough dreaming of him now, really, but instead of forcing himself to wake, he decided to humor his subconscious. “So what, it’s some kind of Fifty First Dates bullshit, but instead you’re dead and I’m dreaming?”

Neil hesitated before laughing again, a little quieter this time, fiddling with his sleeves. “You make that reference nearly every time, but I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

It seemed that even in his subconscious, Neil was still an idiot. “It’s just as well. If the universe is gonna make me forget this shit there might as well be some irony about it.”

Neil just looked confused before he sighed again and shook his head. “You never make this any easier.”

Andrew didn’t answer that, just crossed his arms as he asked, “Is there a way to bring you back?”

Neil’s head shot up, his face lighting up like it did on court. He stared at Andrew for a moment, like he'd just done something incredible, and Andrew nearly told him to stop staring before he answered, his mouth curving wryly. “I don’t know. I was just trying to get you to remember something before trying to bring myself back to life.”

“Well, how do I do that?” At Neil’s confused glance he huffed and elaborated, “Remember this. Remember _you.”_

Neil smiled a little again before saying, “I don’t know. I’d figure you’d have to look up how to remember your dreams, or ask Dobson. Not that it matters; I don’t think you’ll even remember me suggesting it.”

“Then what do we do?” Andrew was starting to see why Neil had looked so hopeless before.

“We wait, I guess. Or you remember. Or I fade away. It won’t matter to awake you either way.”

Andrew wanted to say something about it mattering _right fucking now,_ but instead took a deep breath and said, “Okay.”

Neil nodded, looking back down at his hands. He fiddled for a few minutes before asking, “How are the others?”

Andrew filled him in on the last few months, what day it was and his games and the team. Andrew hadn’t left yet only because he still had to get Aaron and Nicky through college, and still had a promise with Kevin. Bee had also said he should stay with the team, but he didn’t mention that; she’d said it would be a good outlet for him, and he didn’t want the idiot getting any ideas. In return, Neil talked about his existence after Andrew woke up, sitting in where ever they were doing fuck-all until Andrew went back to sleep. Neil didn’t know if they were in Andrew’s head, or his, or somewhere in-between, or if maybe he was a dream of Andrews', or if he really _was_ still alive if he wouldn’t wake up.

“I’m pretty sure I am, though,” He said, pressing a hand to his chest. “Sometimes, I can still feel my heartbeat, or hear something distant. I think I’m in a hospital somewhere; I hear a monitor most of the time.”

They’re both talking about the season the Foxes are having (Neil had asked, and really, what was a dream-Neil gonna do if Andrew talked about Exy for a while?) when Neil stops mid-sentence.

“Our time’s almost up,” He says, sounding quiet again. Andrew decided he didn’t like this melancholy Neil; he wondered after that how many times he’d decided that in his dreams.

“How can you tell?”

“I’m being pulled back, out of—where ever we are. You’ll be waking up soon.”

Curse Kevin and his goddamn alarms. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He tried to sound casual about it, but even to his ears his voice sounded a little rough.

Neil smiled again; Andrew obviously hadn’t pulled off the casual part, but he appreciated the effort anyway. “See you.”

The image of Neil smiling faded until Andrew sank back into oblivion.

 

***

 

Andrew woke up with the strange feeling he was forgetting something. This was strange for him for many reasons, the main one being he didn’t forget anything. He knew he’d dreamed the night before, knew he’d seen something, but it was gone. The only thing he could really hold onto was someone’s ruined hands, and a quiet voice, and a familiar strangers’ very blue eyes—

But it was gone as soon as Kevin walked in yelling about Andrew getting up, as if he hadn’t been in bed and groaning ten minutes before. Andrew figured if it still bothered him by the afternoon, he’d talk to Bee about it; it was a Wednesday, after all.

Andrew got ready for practice trying to shake off the weird feeling and ignoring the growing ache in his chest. He thought he’d managed to chase it off the last few months with unending apathy, but it seemed like a certain stubborn idiot refused to leave his mind. Andrew really hoped Bee had something to help with remembering dreams. Or, if not, forgetting them; he couldn’t let himself break after so many months of success.

In his mind, he tried to erase the image of Neil Josten smiling, looking wrecked with scars and tired to the bone, and utterly failed.

 

 

|||

Neil could dream sometimes during the day. He avoided it most of the time because his dreams were often nightmares and things he didn’t want to think about anymore. He thought it was rather pointless to sleep anyway because where ever he was he wasn’t awake. The dark gray place he was in didn’t change and was empty until he was pulled into Andrew’s dreams.

Sometimes his conscious seemed to give out, though, and he would be stuck in some memories for a while. When he found himself somewhere other than the grey room, he expected the worst; his mind, of course, provided.

He was in the basement of his childhood home, listening to familiar boots come down concrete steps—or he was back at Evermore, under the Master’s heavy hand and heavier cane—or he was on a beach, his back to the ocean, his hands burned from where he hadn’t gotten away from the gasoline fast enough when it ignited, and even from his place in the sand he could see the flames licking at his mother’s hair—

Around and around, until it faded back to the grey. Neil thought it would be impossible to be tired if he was really sleeping all the time like he thought, but he was exhausted. Sitting in the grey space felt mind-numbing, and even just that felt like it was saping him of what he had left. He really didn’t know if he could last much longer; whatever energy that kept him there seemed to be fading every day he stayed.

He thought seeing Andrew every night made up for it. Even if he didn’t remember any nights previous, or some days was in such a mood he wouldn’t say anything at all or, even worse, would just skip sleep completely. Sometimes, though, Andrew would talk to him like nothing had happened, or fight with him about his existence, or tell him to get out of his head before he _made_ him. He could tell Andrew didn’t think he was real, that he was just something his mind had made up.

Last night was different. He’d made the same joke he had every other time he’d decided to go with what Neil was saying (Neil couldn’t decide if he _had_  to watch the movie as soon as he woke up, or if he hated it enough by now he never wanted to see it). He’d talked about the Foxes, who’d sounded like they were doing well despite his absence. And Andrew—he seemed to believe him, even just a little, for a moment. Even if he wouldn’t remember it today, there was still something last night that had made him believe Neil when he said he was alive. Neil wondered what it was, whether he’d had a good day or if Neil had done something different that looked real to him.

Andrew had always said he was a pipedream, though. Maybe even if he did remember, he wouldn’t believe it. Maybe Neil, however alive he assumed he was, would just be a silly little dream on Andrew’s mind when Neil really faded away.

Neil was really, really tired.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi im posting this now bc i don't know how much ill be able to write over the week!!! hhhh  
> im also trying to plan it out and get ready for NaNo so by november i can have something done but uhh. yeah   
> this chapter is a little shorter and also not super good but w/e!!   
> warnings: there is a scene of the binghampton riot and some more talk of death  
> thank you!!

Andrew woke up in the middle of the night trying desperately to remember the dream he’d just had. He tried to remember what Bee had said, about writing it down, waking up more, and trying to remember it as soon as he woke up, but even as he sat there, he could feel it slipping away. He grasped at anything, something he’d remember for a while, but it was already gone, leaving an empty feeling. He hated how important it felt, like a piece of him had just slipped away in front of him.

He’d talked to Bee about the dreams last Wednesday, and it still hadn’t helped. The weekend at Columbia’s felt haunted, with how little sleep Andrew managed to get and how drunk the rest of his group were trying to get every Friday they didn’t go to Eden’s. Every night since the appointment with Bee he’d woken up feeling like he was missing something vital, and the feeling wouldn’t go away until he fell asleep again.

Not that that feeling was particularly foreign. Andrew was almost tempted to look over the side of his bunk, to look down at the bunk below him and see Neil Josten sleeping in bed. The sudden striker-shaped absence had plagued everyone the first few months; Andrew wasn’t fool enough to believe everyone had stopped expecting him to be where he was supposed to, but just got better at hiding it. Andrew loathed the fact that Neil had managed to make himself so unforgettable before leaving, and wished he could forget him like he forgot his dreams.

The red alarm clock on Kevin’s desk read that it was nearing 5 o’clock, which meant he couldn’t try to sleep a little more before classes started. He started getting ready for the day, despite it being a Monday, one of the days in the week when Andrew didn’t have anything other than practice.

He couldn’t seem to forget what had happened that morning, though. In practice he sat and did nothing, like normal, but his thoughts continually travelled back to his dreams. He felt like last night something had changed, and he had been so close to remembering what it had been before he’d woken up all the way. He thought it was bullshit that this forgetfulness was only affecting him now, and only when he was dreaming—what he would have given to forget some of the things he had to go through.

He vaguely recognized Kevin yelling at him from somewhere on the court while he stared into space, trying to think of a solution other than forget about it completely and stop letting it bother him. When practice was over he followed the others back into the locker room, still ignoring Kevin and all other eyes on him while he changed.

He both dreaded and was waiting for the night, when he could try again and remember.

 

|||

 

Last night had been a _fucking disaster,_ if Neil did say so himself. It started out with Andrew saying that Neil being the one fucking him up in the morning was ‘just typical’, and explained how he’d woken up since Wednesday, and how he’d asked Bee for help. Neil didn’t think he could explain how that made him feel, but judging by the look that had been on Andrew’s face, his expression must’ve said it all.

Neil took his time explaining once again that no, he wasn’t dead, and yes, he was real and not just a dream of Andrew’s, he was very sure. They got into conversation that was a bit safer again: the foxes, the games, classes, grades. Andrew tried to ask how Neil was, and Neil had refused to give an honest answer. Andrew got a little huffy at that, but he couldn’t tell a ghost/dream/hallucination to fuck off, could he?

(Neil could tell Andrew was a little more than relieved to see him; it had been months since he had disappeared, and no matter how much Andrew claimed he didn’t care, he looked like it had been wearing on him. It had worn on Neil, too.)

Then Andrew had asked again what he was going to do about the whole ‘alive’ thing.

“I told you,” he started, “I was waiting until you remembered something before I—“

Andrew interrupted him. “I mean, what are _you_ doing, Josten. Have you been trying to wake yourself up at all? Or really tell if you’re alive and not just a ghost?”

Neil slowly answered, “I’m not doing anything, I guess. I was waiting for you.”

Andrew nodded, like he was confirming something. “How can you be absolutely sure you’re alive?”

Neil stared a moment. “I can tell whether I’m alive or not, Andrew.”

Andrew stared right back. “But you’re not _sure._ You’re not totally positive you’re living.”

“I am sure! How can you tell you’re alive, Andrew?”

“I wake up in the morning,” he answered. “I get up and I forget about these dreams and I move on. You don’t do any of those things. So you can’t be _sure—“_

“ _Stop,”_ Neil said, clutching at his sleeves. He _knew_ he was alive. He could feel it; he could even hear it sometimes. He was alive. He _had_ to be. Neil had not waited this long for it to be for nothing. He couldn’t—he _can’t—_

“ _Abram._ ” Neil realized he was panting, staring into nothing. He looked up at Andrew, who was much closer than before. “Yes or no?” he asked, and even though Neil was sure they wouldn’t feel anything, he agreed anyway.

Andrew’s hand came down on his neck, and it was like a shock to his system. All of him was suddenly buzzing with warmth; he hadn’t even known he’d been cold before. Now it was like being dumped in hot bath, and he gasped in surprise. Andrew nearly pulled away, thinking it was a no, but Neil clasped his hand to Andrew’s before he could, trying to keep as warm as possible.

“Neil,” Andrew sounded worried, for his monotone voice. “What is happening?”

Neil didn’t say anything for a while, still soaking in the heat. Finally, he mumbled out, “You’re really warm.”

Andrew scoffed, relaxing minutely. “Well, yeah. I’m the alive one, remember?”

Neil snorted, and they both stayed where they were as long as they could, until Neil could feel Andrew waking up.

He sighed. “I know you probably won’t remember this, but if you do, could you—“

The warmth was gone, and Neil was alone again. Neil was much, much colder than before.

 

|||

 

Andrew was dreaming again. This time, he knew what he was seeing couldn’t be real, because he hadn’t been there before.

He was sat in an old car that was idling just outside a noisy stadium. That he could remember; it was the home of the Binghampton Bearcats, a place he had dreamed of many times before. He’d never been in this car when he’d been there, though; he wondered what had changed.

From his vantage point he could see the exact moment the tension broke and the riot started. He could kind of see the Foxes wading through the people, but his attention was quickly averted as he recognized who was being towed out of the crowd by a stranger.

Neil looked the exact same as he did the night he’d disappeared—tired, jumpy, anxious, upset. He remembered his last words to him, the way they sounded, the way Neil’s eyes had looked as he spoke. The Neil in his mind and the Neil walking towards the car were one and the same, and Andrew wondered what the fuck he was on to make his brain come up with this.

Neil stopped, pulling the person dragging him to a stop as well, as he looked back at the riot for a moment—then pulled his phone out of his pocket, smashing it against the ground. He dropped his bag on the ground too, and his keys next to it. He walked the rest of the way to the car and was shoved into the front seat, and then whoever had been taking him slid into the back with Andrew, though he couldn’t make out their face, and Andrew _really_ didn’t know what the fuck was going on.

Then he blinked, and he was sitting in a grey room, facing a very scarred and pale Neil Josten. They both sat and stared at each other for a while, before Neil broke it with a quiet, “Well, fuck.”

Well, fuck, indeed.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry its been a bit!! i am kinda rushing through this because of school and NaNo coming up, but i was planning on coming back to it to edit and fix it because /ugh/. it is not my best work tbh  
> the end is coming soon! this chapter is short as hell because nano is kicking my ass rn and im not ready for it rip   
> enjoy!!

Neil had known when he’d gotten into the car with Lola that he wasn’t prepared to die. He had so much more to live for than he had his whole life, and now it was being taken away again. He thought of the Foxes, and Exy, and Andrew through the whole drive, and thought it was just his luck.

It was just his luck, too, when he survived what happened with his father—but didn’t wake up again. He supposed it was _still_ his bad luck when he realized Andrew couldn’t remember his dreams—not him, or anything he told him. That was more than enough bad luck for Neil to believe in.

Now, though, Neil could not _believe_ how bad his luck really was. One moment, he was sat with Andrew, trying to talk out what had happened the night before—reliving the moments just before his inevitable torture are never fun, especially with someone like Andrew—and the next he was—nowhere.

Lights were flashing. Someone was speaking urgently above him to someone else, while something whined annoyingly in the background. His hands clutched weakly at what was wrapped around them, trying to find purchase in an otherwise numb world.

 Neil couldn’t see anything but blurs and darkness, and couldn’t feel anything but an aching pain in his head. He tried to ask for some water, because his throat was killing him and maybe a trashcan because he might throw up, but nothing came out. He thought maybe he was actually dying, this time, without a goodbye to Andrew for the second time in a row. He wondered if Andrew would remember the dream he’d shared, or if he’d wake up still believing Neil was dead. He wondered if it really mattered all that much if he was dying now.

Everything was swept under again as he fell back, out of himself, as someone above him yelled something unintelligible.

Neil was back in the grey space, the same as before, but feeling—fainter. Weaker, or something close, since he didn’t actually have a body. Andrew was still sat in front of him, looking shaken and more pale than Neil’s ever seen him.

“Neil,” Andrew started, his voice sounding rough, and then he stepped forward and reached, almost as if to touch him, before stopping. “Do you know how long it’s been?”

What? “We were just talking, weren’t we?”

Once again, Andrew’s face shifted—something more like disbelief, like relief, like acceptance—before it went blank again, and he explained. “That was a couple days ago. We were talking, and then you disappeared and I woke up and remembered, but you didn’t come back the next night, so I thought—“ His lips pressed into a thin line, and he took a deep breath.

That was—worrying, to say the least, but he didn’t really want to think about why he was gone for days. “You remembered, though. That means we can try to fix whatever’s wrong. “

Andrew just nodded, still looking out of sorts. “We can figure it out.”

Despite being in front of him, Neil had never felt so far away.

 

|||

 

Of course, as soon as Neil came back, he gave Andrew a bunch of shit to do. He thought the reason he was gone so long was because he nearly, _almost_ woke up, which meant he _was_ alive, and probably at the hospital. Which meant Andrew was left to call every hospital in Baltimore to see if they had a Wesninski or Doe (Neil didn’t know if whoever had found him had put him under his name or not) in comatose.

This lead to other complications, like getting everyone out of the dorm for the day so he could do it without being sent to Bee, and looking up the hospital names and numbers, and talking to nurse after nurse, asking if they can _check real quick for him—_

All in all, by the time Andrew found the right one, he was real fucking tired.

He almost hadn’t heard her for a moment when she answered; he’d expected some variation of ‘he’s not here, _but,’_ like every other nurse, not a ‘yes.’ He almost hung up on her before realizing what she’d actually said, and then—

“You do?” Andrew hated repeating himself.

“Yes, we have a John Doe. He was admitted a few months ago. Do you know—“

Andrew hung up then; he didn’t need to hear more.

He was going to see Neil.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! i have already mostly given up on nano lol so here's this mess  
> this is not edited and rushed once again. im very sorry   
> its a longer chapter though!! so theres that   
> im also extra sorry about the end but,,,, yknow  
> Enjoy!!!

Andrew did not remember the drive upstate. He did not remember handing his keys to Renee, or telling her where to go. He did not remember the whole pack of cigarettes he smoked on the way there, window rolled down and ash on the armrest. He knew from looking it up once that the drive from Columbia to Baltimore was nearly eight hours, but he did not register a thing until they were in a hospital parking lot and Renee was saying his name.

Renee got out of the car the same time he did and lead the way into the building, probably understanding how little he was functioning at the moment. Andrew didn’t hear what either the receptionist or Renee said as they spoke, and when they got to the right floor six stories up he didn’t focus on what the nurses said either. They were just outside a room with the name “Doe” on a plaque outside the door, and Andrew’s joints creaked and knuckled whitened as he tried not to shove the people in front of him out of the way. Renee must have realized this, as she ended the conversation as quickly as she could and opened the door for Andrew on the way in.

The room was small and smelled like all hospitals do—cleaning supplies and something else hiding underneath, the smell of illness one could never fully erase—and while it had a tall window that overlooked the parking lot the blinds were shut. The bed was curtained off with a thin sheet Andrew could practically see through; despite this, that is where Andrew paused.

It had been nearly six months since Neil had officially been missing. Six months of repressed panic and memories, and very careful phone calls with Bee even after their normal Wednesday meetings. Six months of ignoring when anyone mentioned him, asked him how he was doing, and whether he cared at all—this phrase had been common when he didn’t even try to share with them how he felt about the disappearance. After a summer of everyone spending some much needed time away, they seemed to accept the fact that Andrew was incapable of grief and left him alone. Andrew hadn’t cared. The only person who would have was an abandoned missing persons file in some officer’s cabinet.

Not anymore, though. Andrew wrenched the curtain aside and stepped toward the bed, thinking it would be better if he just got it over with. Instead of ripping off the metaphorical band-aid, however, Andrew only felt a swift kick in the chest as he looked over the person in the bed.

Like in his dreams, this Neil was scarred and thin. His hair was longer and seemed more brown than red in the hazy hospital light. The only signs of life were the steady beep of the heart monitor and the slight rise and fall of his chest. Andrew stared at the arms lying across the blankets and thought about how pissed Neil would be at how thin he’d gotten, how long it would take him to get back on the court. Andrew decided then and there if Neil mentioned anything about Exy after he woke up he would kill him.

He sat on the chair next to the bed and lightly pressed his fingers to the inside of Neil’s wrist, feeling his pulse and trying to convince himself that they were both here, and it was not another dream. He knew Renee was somewhere behind him, watching the door and the both of them just in case. Andrew supposed that’s why he fell asleep so quickly—the feeling of being watched and protected and the feeling of Neil’s hand in his.

 

|||

 

Neil was back in his father’s basement.

He knew that this was a dream, because he had been here before and had escaped, mostly. He’d seen fragments of his father’s demise. Now, however, it seemed his mind wanted to go through it again—like he hadn’t seen it enough the past few months.

His father is above him, sitting on his torso, and Lola is to his right, both smiling sickly and ready for whatever was next. His father held a cleaver in one hand while Lola held her knives, waiting for his father’s go-ahead. Neil hated every minute waiting, especially since he knew what happened next. His father raised his hand, the cleaver glinted in the fluorescent light, Neil’s arm jerked as he readied himself for the pain and he opened his mouth just to get the last word in.

Neil normally would never have said anything at all, the fear from his childhood sealing any words in his throat. Surprisingly, being on the brink of death seemed to bring out his already minimal confidence. He didn’t even remember what he said—in the dream, it was just his voice saying something muffled and distant while his father’s and Lola’s faces suddenly grew very dark. He finished speaking and watched the next few things happen in slow motion.

Lola stepped up closer to his head as Nathan raised his arm back to swing down into Nathaniel. Somewhere above them something crashed, but neither seemed to notice, too caught up in their rage. As Nathan swung down, Lola lifted her heeled foot back and aimed for his head. Right before his father could hit his mark the door behind him burst open and his hand faltered as he looked back. Lola’s foot didn’t, however, and then all Neil could see were stars.

He remembered vaguely what happened next—he was awake for a short while despite having just gotten brained by high heels, and watched his uncle proceed with the execution. Stuart then tried to speak to Neil, but seeing that he was pretty much out of it and close to passing out, focused on keeping him awake instead. That had obviously failed, seeing how Neil was in the hospital still after months.

Instead of being there, however, Neil was back in the grey space, as was Andrew. He looked much more exhausted than the last time Neil had seen him, and he almost asked why before Andrew interrupted him.

“I’m here,” he said cryptically, his voice rough like he hadn’t spoken in a while.

Neil didn’t understand. “I—yes?” Had he forgotten again? Would Neil have to start from the beginning _again?_

Andrew huffed, glaring a little harder. “I mean I’m _here._ In the hospital. With you.”

Oh.

“Oh,” he said out loud, and then, “Shit.”

Andrew looked the farthest from amused. “Yeah, _shit._ What do I do now?”

Neil almost mentioned he hadn’t really planned this far, but by the look Andrew was giving him, he already knew. Neil kind of shrugged, since he really didn’t know, and they both sat in silence.

“Was that how you ended up in the hospital?” Andrew asked, and when Neil only looked confused, he sighed. “The memory you were having. When that woman kicked you. Is that how you ended up in a coma?”

Neil nodded, and when Andrew’s expression darkened, he added, “She’s already dead, though. I’m sure my uncle was very thorough when cleaning up the trash.”

Andrew only nodded back, but his expression was lighter than before, so Neil assumed he’d said the right thing. Before he could say anything else, however, he suddenly felt something tear. Not on him or Andrew, but in the space they were in. Andrew seemed to flicker, looking all at once livid and panicked. Neil tried to tell him it was _fine,_ but they were both swept away before he could say anything.

 

|||

 

Andrew woke abruptly to the sound of an alarm. For a moment he didn’t know where he was or what he was doing, but when he looked down at his hands he remembered the hospital and the dream and suddenly the alarm made more sense.

Andrew had just looked up to see the monitor when the doctors came in, asking him and Renee to step back for a moment. Andrew allowed himself to be pulled back only because his eyes wouldn’t tear away from the slowly declining line on the monitor and the frantic beeping coming from the machine. Renee was saying something to him, low and panicked, but once again Andrew’s brain seemed to malfunction and only focus on one thing—Neil.

Neil, who was dying. Neil, who he’d finally found, who’d he’d just seen, was leaving in front of him. Neil who looked the same despite all the tubes sticking out of his body and the pallor that had taken over his skin. Neil, who he was _losing all over again._

Andrew didn’t know if he could pick himself up again this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry asdfghjk


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so????? this is the end!!! i dont remember writing most of this lol but w/e  
> also @ comments!! I will get to you I promise!!!! i am just Very Forgetful   
> I might come back to this and edit but for now it is Finished.   
> Thank you for reading, and enjoy!!!!!!!

Neil did not know where he was. He could feel something, something uncomfortable and cold, on his face and around his head. He could feel something wrapped around his arm, tight and constricting, and a steady beep from somewhere to his left. His eyes were glued shut, and his body ached like he’d been hit by something. Everything was heavy and slow, and he couldn’t bring himself to wake up fully.

Something warm touched his hand, and if he had the energy he would have flinched. As it was, a finger twitched as someone’s warm hand wrapped around his. Neil hadn’t realized how cold he was until then.

Then Neil remembered all of it—the dreams, the hospital, the months spent waiting, _Andrew—_ and his eyes flew open, looking right at Andrew.

He looked exhausted. It looked like it was midday outside, and light trickled through the closed blinds. In the light Neil could see his bloodshot eyes and impressive eye bags, the way his mouth was set oddly and the slight slump to his shoulders. He was going to ask about it, but Andrew beat him to it.

“You died.” It was so blunt and monotone, Neil only stared at him, confused. Andrew looked severely unimpressed. “Yesterday, you died. They said you were clinically dead for about two minutes before they brought you back—they’re calling it a miracle.”

Neil could only manage a weak ‘what’, and a little line formed between Andrew’s eyebrows, like he’d done something more worrisome than dying.

“Before that, you were in a coma for six months, after being kidnapped by—“ Neil waved weakly with his hand, showing that yes, he remembered that part, and then tried to ask for some water. Apparently living off fluids for a few months could make you really thirsty.

Andrew just stared a moment before shaking his head, then went to get his doctor. They explained they didn’t expect him to wake up again after nearly dying, and was very lucky, and that now that they knew who he was and where he lived they could release him to the hospital nearer to home. Andrew stayed next to him the whole time, not even glancing at the doctors as he continued to stare Neil down.

Later that night, Andrew told him the full story: They’d been pulled out of the dream not by Andrew, for once, but by Neil, who had suddenly started declining. Andrew and Renee had had to watch as they tried, and failed, and then succeeded in bringing him back to life. He’d been out of it again ever since, but had shown signs of walking up over the last two days. Andrew and Renee had stayed since then, waiting since they were sure he would wake up at some point (at least, Andrew was sure; Renee trusted him enough to wait with him).

And now, they could go home.

 

|||

 

Andrew could tell Neil _loathed_ physical therapy.

He already wasn’t happy when he realized how long he’d be out of commission after being asleep so long. Now, struggling to stand and too stubborn to use the waiting arms of his therapist, Andrew could see him getting more and more frustrated.

They’d flown home within a week of Neil waking up, the doctors deeming him well enough to be rolled in a wheelchair on and off a plane and into another hospital. They didn’t want him home for another couple of days at least, but Andrew had been expecting that. The Foxes all knew he was there, and alive, but at Andrew’s duress only came one or two at a time, since Neil was still weak and struggling to stay awake most days.

Dan and Matt had been first, crying and ducking over the bed to embrace him—Andrew almost shoved them both back, but stopped at the look on Neil’s face. They filled him in on what happened the last few months, and even though Andrew had already done it, he sat and listened with a small smile on his face. Andrew kicked them out when Neil started to fall asleep but was too polite to ask them to leave.

Kevin had come next, who had then been immediately pushed out the door after asking about Exy, of all things. Nicky and Aaron came a few minutes after that, with a message from Kevin about being careful and listening to doctor’s orders. Nicky, as per his usual, cried, and stood in by his side, not looking that angry when he told him to do what he’s told instead of fighting everyone he can reach from his bed. Neil asked Andrew tiredly that night whether or not that meant he was officially part of the family.

Allison and Renee came last, despite Renee having just seen him before his ride home—she’d been the one to drive Andrew’s car back. Allison complained about how pale he’d gotten, and told him to hurry up and get better so he can roast Kevin’s ass on court again. Neil laughed along, looking much better after a few days of seeing everyone again.

Wymack and Abby visited too, but much later at night. By the time they left Neil was already asleep as the bid quiet goodnights to Andrew, with the strict reminder to go home and sleep at some point instead of attempting to get comfortable in the hospital chair. Andrew, true to form, didn’t listen and stayed another night at the hospital.

Eventually, Neil and Andrew ended up back in the Columbia house, after Neil had made good enough progress he could walk for a while without passing out. Neil was still on strict orders from both the hospital and Abby to stay in bed and get his strength back before he even tries to walk farther than from his bed to the couch. Neil thought they were being a touch overprotective, but Andrew didn’t mind; Neil being in the house most of the time meant Andrew could keep him where he could see him.

Nightmares and the like still came to visit them, even if they considered the situation over. The FBI did not appreciate having the door slammed in their face by Andrew, nor going to the hospital in Baltimore and finding their comatose John Doe gone and back home already. This started a rather bloody fight with Andrew and the rest of the foxes with the FBI, and ended with them leaving, a promise to be back when Neil was fully healed and ready to give his statement.

Neil also got a call from the Moriyamas, explaining what their terms were now that he was alive. That night, Neil explained that after the Ravens loss against the Foxes, they had taken care of him—which was news to Andrew. Neil also explained the deal he made to keep himself alive despite having just returned to it. Andrew was livid Neil had to fight so hard to keep the life he had already fought so hard for, but Neil calmed him down again.

Things were finally, mostly returning to normal again. School would start soon for the both of them, as long as Neil had a clean bill of health by the time September rolled around. The rest of the Foxes had gone back to their mostly normal lives, returning home for the remainder of the summer with promises to group-call Neil every night. Neil could walk almost a whole day without getting too tired, and was starting to run the treadmill more with his doctor’s consent. Andrew—was still Andrew, but was less worried about coming home to find Neil up and gone, with no note and no goodbye.

The dreams didn’t come back. They talked about them, trying to figure out what changed. Neil guessed it was mostly his fault, since he was comatose, and Andrew asked if he had to worry about dreaming about him while he was away. Neil had laughed, and said no, and then paused before saying, “I don’t think I have much to worry about anymore anyway.”

Andrew knew, for a fact, he could be dreaming. That there was a good chance Neil was still dead, and this was all an elaborate fantasy his brain made up for no reason other than to taunt him. But really, Andrew thought that anyway most days. Neil always seemed like something too good to be true, a pipedream, something made up and forgotten upon waking. That didn’t mean Andrew couldn’t enjoy it while he was there. It didn’t mean that, maybe, one day he’d wake up and see Neil and not assume he was a dream, but a reality—a truth.

For now, though, Andrew walked over to where Neil was standing in the kitchen, staring down into nothing on the table. He heard Andrew coming and looked up, making the face that he does—the face Andrew _hates,_ the one he’d been told a hundred times not to make—and smiled when Andrew asked a quiet, “ _yes or no.”_

_“Always.”_

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!!!!


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